Schooled
by hollyivy7
Summary: Moody always warned him to keep every situation in mind. Eliminate no possible outcome, no matter how ridiculous. So when Harry finds himself flung a few decades back into Tom Riddle's time and tricked into taking the DADA position, he's prepared. Really.
1. Chapter 1

Harry Potter had accomplished many things in his twenty-two years. He survived the killing curse, defeated Voldemort, reformed magical creature policies, became a top Auror, and weeded out several dozen corrupt Ministry officials. He had done a lot for the Wizarding World. So much, in fact, that wizards and witches began to depend on him. Every problem they encountered, they would call for him. Every. Single. One.

Wannabe dark lord? Ring up Harry Potter. Rebel forces attacking? Hey, Harry's on speed dial; he'll help! Cat stuck in a tree? Harry-_bloody_-Potter at your service. It was filling up his entire timetable. His schedule currently looked something like this: Wake up. Get called down to the Ministry. Eat breakfast. Receive SOS call from Aurors. Head over to Hermione and Ron's place. Run from mob of fans. Get called down to the ministry. And so on. It was getting so very annoying. He even had a bleeding modified cell phone so people could contact him. And speak of the devil, the phone began to ring.

He rolled his eyes and flipped it open, "What, what is it this time?"

"Mr. Harry Potter sir, there seems to be some possibly dangerous material in the Department of Mysteries left over from the battle during your 5th year."

It was slightly disturbing that his first thought was, "Which battle?"

"We need your delicate handling and expertise to remove it," the person continued.

"Call the janitors," he shot back. "You should have cleaned it up ages ago! It's been 7 years!"

Slightly embarrassed, the voice admitted, "We never got around to it."

He briefly wondered why the Ministry would overlook something so important and reminded himself that to do otherwise would require actual _work._

"Oh, alright," Harry said crossly and hung up.

Melinda Timorous was a very nervous witch, Harry soon discovered. She had a habit of mumbling to his shoes and fidgeting with her robes. Melinda also stuttered so much that her words were practically indecipherable. Luckily, Harry was adept at speaking with these kinds of people. Even after all those years, the Boy-Who-Lived propaganda never really wore off. He repeated in monotone again, "You called me up at six in the morning to clean up sand. Without using magic."

Melinda flushed beet-red and started tugging on her mousy brown bangs, "Y-yes. Sand from T-time Turners is highly h-hazardous. Magic of any k-kind can set it off."

Harry acquiesced reluctantly and grabbed a mop. He mopped furiously, his knuckles white on the handle. All the while, he muttered blasphemous comments under his breath such as, "I knew the Ministry needed me to clean up their messes, but this is ridiculous!" He was surrounded by powdery sand that stretched as far as he could see. Yellow tapes cheerfully declared "Caution. Clean-up in Process." Melinda wisely stayed well behind them.

There went his plans to meet with Ron and Hermione. Third time this month he had to blow them off, nothing new. He paused in his mopping for a breather. Then he felt it. A tickle in his nose. Oh no. Harry tried desperately to suppress it. Not now, not here! But there was no use denying it.

Crap.

"Aaaaachoo!"

Harry sneezed, the sound echoing in the large room. There was a pregnant pause, like the calm before the storm. The moment broke, and all the sand swirled into a huge cloud - with him in the center. It coalesced into a vortex and sucked him in with a small "pop." Before the darknes took him, Harry briefly thought nostalgically of Voldemort. Maniac was probably laughing his arse off from hell. "Ha ha Harry," he imagined him saying. "I died in a super-cool, ultra-dramatic battle to the death. You *snicker* died from _cleaning_."

Harry James Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, Savior of the Wizarding World. Done in by cleaning. Daily Prophet was going to have a field day with this.

Decided to put this up; it was sitting in Document Manager for too long. Reviews make the world go round. And writers writing faster. Even a smiley face would help!

Grammar mistakes, problems?


	2. Chapter 2

Harry awoke to a pounding headache and the feeling that he had done something very stupid and that he couldn't take it back. His mouth tasted like cotton sock, and somehow, an angry goblin with a sledgehammer had made himself welcome in his head.

He blinked blearily and sat up. Everything was blurry without his glasses, but he squinted and managed to make out, a curtain? Weird. He turned around and began groping for his glasses on the bedside table. It wasn't here, it wasn't there, and Harry could feel the threads of panic starting to wrap around his tight throat.

What happened last night? he asked himself miserably. Someone tapped him on the shoulder. Harry whipped around, hand reaching for a wand that wasn't there.

"Looking for these?" the person asked, with his glasses in hand.

That voice sounded awfully familiar. Low, pleasant, and patient. Harry shakily slipped his glasses on and blinked at what he saw. Albus Dumbledore, younger than Harry had ever seen him, smiling serenely. Albus Dumbledore, who had died six years ago, standing here alive and well.

Harry's eyes rolled back in his head, and he returned to the blissful black.

Albus stared at the boy who had suddenly fainted and frowned. Was he really that frightening? Perhaps Albus looked intimidating. He would go change into the purple, polka-dotted robe that he had received as a joke present instead. No one could be scared of a man wearing purple polka-dots.

* * *

Harry awoke for the second time that day. He blinked again. Albus was still standing there. He was wearing a familiar polka-dotted robe, but yes, he was still there. Not a dream then. Maybe a hallucination? Harry poked Albus cautiously. Solid. Warm.

"I'm real," he said to Harry's unvoiced concern.

"Oh," said Harry, "I fainted then?"

"Yes," replied Albus sympathetically. "You won't do that again, will you?"

Harry blushed, "No! I'm sorry. I haven't fainted for years, since I was thirteen even."

He didn't count the time last year Hermione was giving birth, and Ron and he had unwisely decided to stay and support Hermione during the painful process. Ron had fainted as soon as the baby's head became visible. Harry soon followed him on the floor. But if you asked either of them, the whole incident had never occurred. Anyone who said otherwise was just begging to be Lockhart-ed.

"May I ask," Albus said delicately, "what happened last night?"

Harry furrowed his brows. Yesterday. What had...oh.

* * *

Last Night, with Harry:

Harry landed with a thump on his backside. He stared upwards at the pinkish swirling vortex that had just deposited him rather ungracefully. Harry noticed with a vague sense of interest (shock was a wonderful buffer; it made everything seem so distant and unimportant and not _now_ so don't worry, Harry) that the vortex was gradually shrinking. With a small pop!, it vanished.

"Oh," said Harry, finally snapping out of it, "bugger."

20 minutes and a daring escape from the Ministry later found Harry on a bench with his head between his knees. He'd be fine. In a minute or so. Right. First step, when in doubt, assess the situation, like Moody taught him.

_I am stranded in the past with no visible way of getting home, nothing but my wand and the clothes on my back, and no idea what to do.  
_

He checked his pocket and smiled wanly. Alright, fine, and a small sack of galleons. Better than nothing, Harry supposed.

_My emotional state is, oh hell, I'm not answering that. I am currently located outside the Three Broomsticks Inn. In 1942.  
_

_Goddamnit. They sure as HELL do not have situations like this in the manual.  
_

Harry slapped himself and took a deep yoga breath. _Okay, calm down, Potter. You can do this._ He just needed...a plan! Harry glanced toward the pub, practically empty because of the current war-time situation. He glanced back at a puddle at his feet that reflected a haggard and panicked face. His haggard and panicked face. Harry stood up. The plan would wait. He was way too sober to be dealing with this right now.

* * *

"I remember getting drunk. Like really drunk. Like Ogden's Old Firewhiskey, maybe this fourth glass is a bad idea, drunk," answered Harry. "And...nothing else. I was hoping maybe _you_ could tell me what happened?"

Albus stroked his beard (shorter than Harry remembered and with streaks of auburn, this was so weird). "Well..." he said.

* * *

Last Night, with Albus:

Albus was on his nightly patrol when he heard shouting. He immediately followed the sound, his heart beating faster. Was it another one of Gellert's supporters? Albus rounded the corner only to encounter a curious sight. A black-haired wizard facing two other violent-looking men. By the way the boy was swaying and the slurred speech, Albus guessed he was more than a little tipsy. One of the attackers snarled at the boy's comment and raised his arm to cast a spell. Albus opened his mouth the warn the green-eyed boy.

There was no need. Before his attacker could even get out the first syllable of his spell, the boy had cast a linked spell. Judging by the almost rope like, helical twist and reddish color of the spells, he had used Expelliarmus, Stupefy, and Incarcerous. Albus was more than impressed. In fact, his eyes had taken on a speculative gleam.

With another hiccup, the young wizard incapacitated the other man. Suddenly, his head whipped around and his eyes found Albus'. Albus tensed.

* * *

"And then?" Harry asked, almost dreading the answer. Please let his chronic idiocy to have been on break last night, _please.  
_Albus blinked. "I'm...not quite certain myself."

* * *

After Harry had unceremoniously thrown up on his shoes, Albus decided to be the good Samaritan he was and find the boy some lodging. Harry had one arm slung around Albus' shoulders and was currently using him as a walking stick of sorts.

"You're real nice," said Harry. His breath smelled of beer, and he stared mistily at the increasingly uncomfortable man. _Stare straight ahead, Albus. Don't make eye contact._

"Would you marry me?" asked Harry, eyes wide as if he had discovered something terribly important, like sliced bread.

Albus stopped in his tracks, "Pardon me?"

Harry continued, "I know I'm supposta go off an' marry a pretty r-redhead to have lots an' lots a kids, but _please._ Thasso, so unoginarl, unorigial - boring, righ' Albus? Like, whoa, s'all been done before."

Silence.

"Oh, wassat too sudden? You're not oblijated, obrigrated - you don't hafta say _yes_."

* * *

Harry said horrified, "I am SO sorry. Is there any way I can make it up to you?"

Albus smiled, and suddenly Harry remembered just why Albus had been called a "manipulative old coot" and "senile but slippery as a snake" so many times before.

"Um," Harry said timidly. "Can I just give you some money and we'll call it even?"

Albus was still smiling and _oh my god, the twinkly eyes, they are back._

"No."

* * *

Author's Note

Been a while, hasn't it? Hope I haven't disappointed you all with this chapter.

Review! Point out any mistakes, typos, gaping plot holes!


	3. Chapter 3

He had been talking with Albus for a good fifteen minutes now, trying to persuade him that hey - maybe hiring a drunkard that you only met last night is a Bad Idea. And, it could be just _rationality and common sense_ speaking here, but maybe you shouldn't attempt to hire him as a _teacher_ of innocent school children!

"I could be a criminal, you know. Like - I could totally be after the many priceless treasures that are no doubt hidden within this ancient castle," Harry protested.

"Nonsense, Harry," Albus brushed away his protests. "I am certain that you are a fine, upstanding young man. And as I have witnessed your prowess in dueling, I know that you possess the skill to teach at Hogwarts in the Defense Against Dark Arts position. Which, may I remind you, is vacant due to Galatea Merrythought's retirement and quite likely to remain so."

_Glad to see where Britain's education system is headed. Which is down the drain._

"You don't even know my last name," tried Harry with exasperation.

"I'll have you know that I am a very good judge of character," the aged wizard winked.

Oh yes, this shining and baseless trust of dangerous men was _definitely _what got Snape hired as Potions professor. Though Snape did turn out to be good in the end...and in love with his mum (eeeew)...and that was not the point!

"I _threw up_ on you," was all that he could say.

"A simple _Evanesco_ took care of that in a jiffy!"

"I can't stay. I have to find a way back home!"

"There is no reason you can't sojourn here a while until you do."

"Could you just _listen_ for one moment!" he almost shouted.

Albus fell silent and simply stared at him, patiently as ever.

"Look," Harry licked his lips nervously and hoped he wasn't digging himself into a deep hole that would eventually be his grave. Or prison cell. "I - I don't have the legal papers to be in Britain right now. And I'm not registered as a person either. I'm not supposed to _be here._"

Albus blinked, "If that is all that you were troubled about, there is no need to be anxious. Many foreign wizards have been fleeing to Britain recently, and consequently, papers are not that difficult to forge. Come, let us see Headmaster Dippet."

Harry despaired at the fact that clearly all wizards had magic where their common sense should be and allowed himself to be dragged away. Maybe Dippet would be an exception...

* * *

Armando Dippet was not an exception. He, instead, had agreed. With delight and enthusiasm, in fact. Actually, he was kind of rubbing Harry's face in it.

"We had such a hard time finding a qualified teacher; your timing is truly impeccable!" Armando Dippet said joyously.

Well, Harry supposed killing a Dark Lord _could_ count as a qualification. And heh, don't get him started on time.

"To be so young and yet come so highly recommended by Albus!" the Headmaster continued.

_Who still doesn't know my last name, _Harry thought darkly. _Dippet asks far too few questions for a man in wartime._

"It is unfortunate that you won't be staying permanently, but treat this semester as a trial run. You will be welcome to return from - where did you say you hailed from?" he inquired.

_I didn't._

Smiling, Harry said, "A little north of here." _In time._

"Well, I am delighted to meet you_, _Mr...Harry," Armando said as he shook hands with Harry.

Noting that the grip was rather weak and adjusting accordingly, Harry replied, "It was a pleasure to meet you too, Headmaster Dippet."

"Please, call me Armando."

_What have I gotten myself into?_

* * *

Albus hummed.

Harry glared.

"Don't think you've won. I'm leaving as soon as I can. "

"Of course."

"And I'm totally going to use unconventional teaching methods."

"Hogwarts supports originality and expression of individuality."

The green-eyed wizard tossed Albus a suspicious glance, wondering if the last comment had been sincere. The older man just beamed harder.

Looking straight forward, Harry asked, "Why?"

_Why do you trust me? Why would you offer me this position? _

"Hogwarts _knows_ you," Albus said, a tad more seriously.

Harry waited.

"And I," Harry's Headmaster-turned-colleague touched his chest lightly, "I feel as though...I know you too."

Harry let that touching statement hang in the air between them for a bit before he thoroughly ruined the moment.

"So, I'm the long-lost friend you never had. Awesome. What do you say to discussing all the beautiful memories that we never shared over some tea and cookies?"

"And lemon drops," added Albus, who somehow seemed even _more_ twinkly then before.

Harry had to grin at that.

"Naturally. Where would we be without lemon drops?"

* * *

Author's Note: Hey, it came out quicker than last time. I know it's a bit short, but it felt right to end it here. I've already started thinking up the next chapter. Which may actually contain our second main character. Fuuuu, evil genii are so hard to write.

Okay, you know the drill. REVIEWS. Typos, comments on my writing style, ideas on where you want the story to go, shout outs to your favorite characters. Anything goes.


	4. Chapter 4

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

Harry was currently in his office, banging his head against the desk. The cause? He apparently had to come up with at least a basic outline for years one through seven of DADA curriculum before school started. Which was in, oh, about three weeks. Buggered. He was so buggered. Not to mention that his education had been...spotty to say the least.

_Let's see. In first year we had Quirrel and we learned. Uh. We learned... Never mind - what spells did Hermione use again? Petrificus Totalus, Alohomora, Lacarnum Inflamarae - isn't that Charms though?  
_

Harry scribbled the spells down onto a piece of parchment. He tapped his chin with the quill_._

_Second year. Lockhart. Yeah, no. Dueling Club, now that was more useful than a whole year with that twit. Expelliarmus, Finite Incantatem, Tarantallegra, Rictusempra..._

_Third year. Moony taught us a lot on dark creatures, oh, and the Patronus charm, I should put that in. _

_Fourth year was the Triwizard Tournament... _

Harry's mind briefly went blank as he remembered all the spells he had to learn for the tasks. And after listing all he could recall from his school days, he would only be half-way done. Plus, Harry still had to write a supply list for the kids!

_Thump. Thump. Thump. Knock, knock._

Harry hastily lifted his head and brushed his hair with his fingers - not that it helped. "Come in_,_" he called out to the door.

"Are you alright?" asked Albus with concern. "I heard noises."

Harry refused to blush. He was most definitely going to put up some privacy wards. "Er, yes. I was..simply keeping the beat," Harry lied poorly as he pounded his fist on the table energetically.

"I see," said Albus amused, "perhaps we can indulge in a respite and meet our colleagues?"

Harry was out the room and down the hallway before Albus finished his sentence.

* * *

"Not everyone is here, you must understand. Ogg the gameskeeper, Apollyon Pringle the caretaker, and Eben Etoile the Astronomy professor are unfortunately absent. However, I believe most of the teachers are present," Albus chatted as they walked to the staff lounge.

A murmured password and the door swung open.

"Friends, this is the new Defense Against Dark Arts professor - Harry."

A lot of the faces were familiar. He saw Professor Slughorn, Professor Bathseda Babbling, and Professor Binns, all looking much younger than the last time he had seen them (well, not Binns, of course.) He vaguely recognized another man, who had a wooden stump for a leg and was missing an arm to boot. The other two teachers must have retired before Harry had attended Hogwarts.

"Awfully young to be teaching, isn't he?" said the man Harry did not know.

Slughorn said slyly, "But surely that speaks greatly about his skills."

"Why," marveled Bathseda Babbling vacantly, "he could be one of our students!"

Binns mumbled to himself in the corner; Harry could hear a little about Goblin Rebellion number 12. The mystery lady looked knowingly at him with cat-like hazel eyes and a smirk on her pink lips. As expected (Harry just knew Albus would play the position of mediator), Albus clapped once and smiled.

"Now, now, might we introduce ourselves first?" he suggested mildly but firmly.

Slughorn grabbed Harry's hand and started shaking it with both hands. "I am Horace, Horace Slughorn - Potions professor. My dear fellow, if I may inquire, where were you educated-"

Luckily, Harry was saved from answering by the unknown man. "Herbert Beery, at your service. I teach Herbology, but my true passion is acting," Herbert said dramatically, leaning in close at the end as if he were divulging a secret.

The wizard with missing limbs introduced himself as "Silvanus Kettleburn, Care of Magical Creatures teacher." Suddenly, Harry remembered where he had seen him. Silvanus Kettleburn was the predecessor of Hagrid! He had retired to "spend more time with his remaining limbs."

"I am Bathsheda Babbling, and I am a professor of Ancient Runes," the young witch informed him.

_Huh. For someone who reminds me so much of Luna, she teaches an awfully complex subject._

Professor Binns spared him a bemused glance. "I am Cuthbert...Binns," he said slowly and floated away again.

The mysterious dark-haired lady reached out for his hand. However, instead of shaking it, she flipped it so his palm faced up. Harry fought the urge to jump back.

She traced a line on his hand, staring intently.

"Hnn, you come from far away, and your journey has been difficult. A bird can only fly so long, and I hope that you will find a time to rest your wings."

"Ahem," coughed Albus politely.

"Ah yes. Forgive me," she let him withdraw his hand semi-casually. "I am Yuuko Unmei. I teach...Divination, as you Westerners call it."

_Uh, yeah, I kind of guessed when you took my palm and predicted my future._

"It's nice to meet you all. I'm Harry. And -" he probably shouldn't admit this "- it's my first time teaching_, _so I'll probably make mistakes. I'm looking forward to a pleasant year with you all."

And then he ran.

* * *

Author's Note: Yeah, school sucks, what else is new? Um. I actually think I updated faster than I thought I would. That's not very encouraging, is it.

Can you guess who Yuuko's based off of (pretty damn obvious)? Anyway, she and the Astronomy teacher are OCs; I couldn't find any canon teachers. Also, since I know next to nothing about all the professors, my characterization may be off.

REVIEW. Make me feel better about skipping my HW to write. XD


	5. Chapter 5

The night before the students were to arrive, they held a party. Granted, it was not so much of a party as it was a gathering of the Hogwarts staff in the Great Hall to chat and drink wine, but Harry found it to be enjoyable nonetheless. He _especially_ enjoyed the drinking of wine.

"How many glasses has that been?" asked Bathsheda with gray eyes like dinner plates.

"The boy can hold his liquor," admitted Ogg with grudging respect.

"Is he even legal yet?" whispered Herbert.

The target of the comments was blissfully unaware. Harry was always most agreeable (and entertaining) after consuming copious amounts of alcohol. Currently, he was attempting to waltz with Yuuko. Though, it was not so much waltzing as it was leaning heavily on the woman, stumbling about, and humming Schubert loudly.

"I believe you have had a little too much wine, Harry," commented Dumbledore.

"Perhaps we should step outside," suggested Yuuko, who felt that her feet had been crushed a sufficient number of times tonight.

Harry blinked endearingly, "Out...side?"

"Yes," she said patiently, "to get some fresh air." And to cool your head, she added mentally.

"Okay, I'll race you!" he replied happily.

With this parting challenge, he ran down the hall, whooping all the way. Yuuko arched her eyebrows at an amused Dumbledore as if to say, _what can you do?_, lifted her skirts, and followed.

* * *

She found him at the Astronomy Tower, staring morosely at the starless skies - a severe shift from the exuberance he showed just minutes before.

Harry spoke suddenly, "Do you believe in second chances?"

The question unexpectedly hit home, and Yuuko took a moment to select the right words.

"Some people," she said carefully and slowly, "may very well never change, and it hurts to hope for what seems impossible. But if we do not give them the opportunity, they will be deprived of even the chance to change. I personally believe that it is never too late for redemption."

It was more than she had been planning to reveal about herself, but the new DADA teacher remained quiet. Finally he said with a dry smile, "Thanks Yuuko. Not as fortune-cookie confusing as you could have been. Give me a second? I need to think a few things over."

The witch obliged, turning to leave. Yuuko only glanced back once on her way out. Harry's silhouette looked so _lost_ that it made her seldom-used heart twinge. They were just too similar.

Perhaps one day, she too would be able to return home. After all, it had been so many years, and didn't everyone deserve a chance for forgiveness?

* * *

_How am I supposed to act tomorrow?_ Harry wondered miserably. Voldemort had murdered countless people, never showing a smidgen of remorse to the very end. The list of casualties was abominable: Mum, Dad, Cedric, Sirius, and many, many more. Harry should do the world a favor as their "Savior" and nip Tom Marvolo Riddle in the bud while he could. It would prevent so much loss and tragedy from happening if Voldemort never got the chance to become Voldemort. But a quiet voice in the back of his head insisted, _No. _

_He's a **monster**, _Harry argued.

_Not yet, _it whispered, _he has not done anything yet. His soul is tarnished but unbroken._

The green-eyed wizard's brow furrowed in contemplation. Tom Marvolo Riddle would be going into his...fifth year? His eyes widened. That would mean he still hadn't opened the Chamber of Secrets or killed his father and grandparents. There had been no casualties yet!

But, Harry reminded himself, Tom Riddle had already exhibited his penchant for abusing magic on Muggles, already recruited his soon-to-be Death Eaters...

He buried his head in his arms and sighed, heartsick and conflicted.

_What am I going to do?_

_

* * *

_**SPECIAL TREAT: To make up for the long wait, heeeere's Tommy! And co.**

_

* * *

_Tom Riddle could not sleep. He was far too...excited, loathe as he was to be experiencing such a childish emotion. It could not be helped. Classes resumed tomorrow, and he longed to return to his true home. Tom belonged at Hogwarts, regardless of the fact that he was forced to spend his summers in a filthy Mudblood orphanage.

The very notion brought a familiar surge of anger, licking bitter and hateful in his chest. It mattered not that he had been reduced to almost _begging _to stay year-round at the school; Dippet, and more importantly Dumbledore, would not have it. How righteous of them, how correct and rule-abiding. One day Tom would see to it that the Wizarding World's useless laws and order were crushed.

The young wizard reigned in his rage with effort. It was getting more and more difficult to do so every time. Some days, he didn't even want to try; he wanted to let go and see everything _burn_ to the ground, ashes to ashes. Tom took a calming breath and mentally chanted the mantra that had gotten him through the past few months.

_Two more years, two more years, two more years-_

_Till the end of this age...and the beginning of a new era._

_

* * *

_Minerva McGonagall, more commonly known as "Minnie", could not sleep. She was surprisingly sensible for a teenager and knew that the first day jitters were pointless and irrational. It would be wisest to obtain a good night's sleep for the busy day she'd have tomorrow. But tell that to her traitorous body - the tingling sensation in her fingers, the persistent tug at the corner of her lips, and the pounding of her heart remained.

Every time Minnie returned to Hogwarts was like the first time. The castle was the most wondrous and magical place in the whole world, and although it was a little babyish of her, one day she hoped to teach at the school. Perhaps, if she were very very lucky, beside a certain Transfiguration professor? She blushed at the thought of the auburn-haired wizard. Yes, he was quite a bit older than her, but he wasn't nearly as ancient as her friends' teasing would suggest!

But it'd be useless to wish or worry if she was exhausted the next day. Glancing at the softly glowing clock on her bedside - midnight already?- she closed her eyes and firmly willed herself to sleep. Minnie's last thought was: _Oh, blast! I just know I'm going to have that horrid nightmare again; I always do the night before school begins. The one where I forget my books, lose my schedule, and arrive late to Professor Dumbledore's class. Oh, blast..._

* * *

Rubeus Hagrid slept like a log. He was very tired, having worn himself out with his newest pet - an acromantula he'd named Aragog. Hagrid couldn't bear to leave the poor thing all alone for so long; maybe he'd bring it to Hogwarts after all.

* * *

Author's Note: Finally, amiright? Figured you guys deserved *something* for President's Week.

Review please.


End file.
